Blood Bound Prisoner
by MsLuciaMalfoy
Summary: Lucius Malfoy escapes Azkaban, but his freedom is short lived, as he soon gets captured by Hermione Granger, who decides to use him as a 'lab rat' for experiments, which could change the results of the war.
1. Chapter 1

The fog in his mind cleared; the feeling of a soft mattress beneath him was not soothing, no - it caused panic. Lucius Malfoy was not one to despair easily, after all, he was only the second person known to escape Azkaban. Sure, he was weak when he escaped; his powers were not even up to a third of what he could easily wield. Still, he had been capable enough to Apparate short distances, hoping to soon get to the Unplottable estate in Rome.

He knew he had no family left. Draco was killed after he had failed his task to kill Dumbledore and soon afterwards, Narcissa was found dead next to the Ministry. He had received letters with descriptions of their fates and he knew – he was next. Now, he found himself captured again and his chances to go into hiding were zero.

There were so many 'if onlys'... The first thing he wanted to know was where he was and who had captured him. Then, he could start to make a plan to escape. He scowled when he looked at the cheap Muggle-made cotton bedding. Then again, he rather preferred this to the dirty rags he'd had in Azkaban. Tentatively, he moved his limbs, hoping not to strain the leg he'd broken. He gasped audibly when he felt only a light tingle and not the burning pain.

'Ah, Lucius, you've finally woken up. I almost thought that you were half-dead.' A soft, purring female voice sounded from the corner of the room. He tried to see who the speaker was, but he could only see a silhouette of a woman in the light of the fireplace.

The woman moved closer to him, allowing him to see her in more detail. The outline of her curves and the inviting swing of her hips made his loins stir. It had been so long since he had had a woman. Suddenly, more lights went on in the room and he had to hold his breath. She truly was a Slytherin's dream. The dark green dress wrapped around her curves so perfectly that his mind was filled with fantasies of how he'd open the ribbon on her side and get his hands on her full breasts, how he'd…

It was too much for him. He let his gaze move higher and admired her golden brown curls for a bit, then looked up to her sensuous lips…

He closed his eyes and turned his head away. _If I appear as if I'm asleep again, she'll go away_, he thought.

'Aww, the big bad Death Eater can't even look at me,' she cooed.

He felt soft fingers running over his jaw, making him turn his head towards her. The touch sent shivers all over his skin; it was like torture, even more debilitating than the Crucio, as it was giving him exactly what he had dreamed about in Azkaban – a warm touch.

'I certainly can look at you!' he said, managing to get his voice to its' usual discontent tone.

'Wonderful,' she sneered, 'is there anything you would like to tell me?' Her eyes bore into his and, for a moment, he thought he might just get lost in the beautiful brown orbs..

'Indeed, I would like to discuss my situation and options with you.' He hoped that it was polite enough.

'So, you're already negotiating? That's not fun.' Her hand was still lightly stroking his cheek, the feeling so unsettling to him that he wished to squirm.

'I think it is the only appropriate thing to do regarding my situation, Madam.'

He assumed that a woman as gorgeous as her must be married. He would never even let her stay in a room with another male. _She's such a gorgeous little thing. Perfect for parading around and marking with family jewels_. Her laughter rang softly trough the room. 'I am not married! Where ever did you get such an idea?'

'Well, if you would excuse my bluntness, I would say that it is obvious that such a gorgeous and gracious woman like yourself would not be left unmarried long. After all, many pureblood families would not let a chance slip to make their offspring perfect.' He was sure that if he'd play his cards right and play on the pureblood ideals he'd get far.

Her laughter became louder; she was almost close to crying. She had never thought that Lucius Malfoy would ever compare her to a pureblood.

'What do you associate with the name Hermione Granger?' she asked out of curiosity.

'Well, she's Weasel's little Mudblood. What can I say?'

Just as he uttered these words, he felt a nasty stinging going trough his body. It felt very uncomfortable and made him squirm a little

'Lord Malfoy, it is not becoming to call your hostess bad names,' she cooed and hit him with another variation of the previous hex.

'You are Hermione Granger? That can't be true…she was terribly bushy haired and just horrid, not like you, my lady. You are a rare beauty…' He was about to continue with his praises, but she interrupted him.

'Well, how ironic this situation is. I am Hermione Granger. And I am delighted that you are my prisoner, at my mercy…I could do anything to you. Is there any torture method you'd like suggest to me?'

He shuddered. _By Circe, I just called my captor a Mudblood…how could I be so stupid? Then again, if a Mudblood can become as stunning as her…I have to get back into her good graces…but I wouldn't be a Malfoy if I couldn't get out of any situation.  
_

'First I would like to apologize; I am in no situation to even say a word without your permission. You have been too kind to me and I have insulted you for no reason, so I am surely going to get punished.'

He put his sweetest tone into use, appearing submissive, if even for this briefest moment of despair. 'Wasn't she just a young, naïve girl with the luscious curves of a woman,' a little voice asked him.

'Oh, yes, you're right, but I won't tell you yet what your punishment will be…to keep the suspense up. But rest assured that I will have a lot of fun. Now, let's move on to more urgent matters.'

Suddenly, Lucius realized the duvet was pulled away and his naked self was exposed to her piercing gaze. He tried to cover his half-erect member, he was ashamed that she was going to see his weakness; after all, she hadn't done much more than sit on the bed and touch his face a little.

Her hands were at his feet, touching the spots where he had felt the sore tingle. Now, however, something else was added – the electrifying feel of skin against skin. He tried to shift away from her touch, but kept still as he saw her scowl, not approving his attempts.

'You had a broken ankle and your leg was broken in two other spots as well. I have never seen such terrible bone damage. I presume your ankle was bitten by a wolf?' she asked as she examined the now perfect limb.

'The damn creature came out of nowhere! I tried to hit it with a stick, but it wasn't scared of me. It jumped to my leg and bit it, and then I picked up a stone and hit it hard on the head. I managed to run away, but then I tripped over some fallen trees. Bloody forest with stupid hungry wolves! If only I had my wand or if I had been strong enough to Apparate longer distances…' He sighed deeply, feeling like there was still so much to say.

Like how scared he was when he fell into the snow, just feeling the pain from his injuries. How ashamed he was that he was being weak, that he couldn't do anything as there was no one there to tend to his injuries. Voldemort had tortured him as well, but at least then he had a wand to heal the cuts, and he could find Severus and get some pain relief potions. But that night, lying in the snow, he felt as helpless as ever. He had never been afraid of death; no, he had wanted to die with honour, not as a weak almost-Muggle in the darkness of a forest god-knows-where.

'So the bite was from a wolf. I've heard that the wolves are pretty hungry this winter so the authorities are planning on putting some feeding spots for them. They don't, after all, want to have their Wildlife Re-establishing Project flop over the fact that this area is not good for a wolf's natural habitat.' Her speech was calm and for a moment Lucius felt at ease.

When she stepped away from him to get a salve, he missed her touch.

'This one will help to heal the rest of the damage. If Poppy hears what a complex fracture I managed to heal…' she mused quietly, as she began to apply the salve to his leg.

From time to time she stole a glance at him, a smug smile on her face. Lucius didn't dare to say a word; after all, it wouldn't take a lot for her to break his bones. He was sure she knew a few nasty spells, so he didn't want to try her patience.

'So, your snaky bastard has taught his servants to be quiet…well, at least that is one good thing he did,' she snickered at Lucius.

'I wish to object to that. It was not my wrongfully chosen _ex -_master who taught me to be careful with words. Every properly bred pureblood knows that it is not good manners to speak if not asked to do so.' He left out the part about the Weasleys being the exception of pureblood tradition.

'That's so noble,' she chuckled, 'but it's no fun at all. I thought I'd have a complaining and writhing bad boy here, whom I'd need to tie up to the bed…but instead I have an obedient servant.' Hermione smirked at the idea of having the once so mighty Lucius at her mercy

Her tone was sickeningly sweet, but he felt more humiliated by that. A servant? Malfoys have never been servants. _That is not true…I did kiss the soles of a half-blood who promised Pureblood utopia…so becoming a Mudblood's servant isn't half as bad. After all, she didn't torture me nor have I had to kiss her soles…though I'd kiss something else…hmm. _ His mind conjured more explicit images of what he'd do to her if only he could…without the danger of getting hexed.

He realized that her gaze was slowly going over every inch of his body. For a moment, he felt self conscious, knowing that he was a far cry from the man he used to be. The extreme thinness and paleness of his skin, messy hair - all courtesy of Azkaban, were not making him attractive. The only very attention grabbing part was his cock, which he tried to cover with his hands. He didn't want to appear needy, that would just lower his already weak position. If things were different, he would not have hesitated a second to pursue her. It was a well-hidden truth that he used to choose women for his illicit affairs only by looks and not heritage. This Miss Granger, however, seemed to be one of the so rarely seen naturally attractive women, one who didn't need to have a gallon of perfume and half a ton of make up on to look gorgeous. At this very moment she seemed like the most amazing female he'd ever seen.

_ And it's not only because I'm starved for sex. If I was still in my old status, she'd be in my bed in no time. _He smiled as he remembered his wooing tactics. It had been so easy for him to get any woman. Would it be easy now? He didn't want to contemplate on that now. It was better to rest on the memories of women fighting over his attentions. Well, he did always look great back then…

'What are you smiling about?' she asked him, a bit of suspicion in her voice before it turned harsher. 'Are you thinking back to your Death Eater days?'

'Oh no, not at all. I must say I am not proud of what I have done whilst being in that organization. Being in Azkaban helped me to rethink my goals in life,' he tried to sound remorseful as he did think that being a Death Eater had been a terrible a mistake.

However, he had realized that only after none of his pals even tried the slightest to get him out of prison. Not a noble reason to change one's beliefs, but still…could he really tell her that he was thinking about how to get her into his bed? Not yet, but once he was physically better and acquired some clothes, he'd turn up his charm and he'd get her. Then she'd not punish him and he'd maybe get some other benefits out of it. He loved being a Slytherin.

He had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't realised the duvet had been pulled back over him, or that she had stepped back from the bed and was now placing some vials on the nightstand.

'You take these when you're ready to go to bed again. As you're not an infant, I don't need to clean after you; the bathroom is behind the white door. It has everything you might need. The windows in this room are warded, as is the door. The wards can not be broken without a wand, as you'd soon find out. Even if the unthinkable would happen and you'd get out, it would be a sight to see you running around naked in the cold, as the next village is good ten miles away.'

She said everything with a victorious smirk; he could clearly feel that she enjoyed being superior.

'Good night, Lucius,' she purred as she leaned closer, letting her hot breath caress his cheek and her soft lips lightly kiss his. He was so surprised by her actions that he didn't realize she had left the room until he felt the light swirl of magic activating the wards. Yes, he had a lot to think about now…


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione left the room smiling contently. This was going to be fun. More than she had expected when she had moved to her family's country residence. Her goal was to concentrate on researching the blood magic involved in the Dark Mark.

It was almost a godsend when Kingsley Shacklebolt had accidentally stepped on a rat near Order headquarters. He gently picked it up and brought the small animal into headquarters, feeling a little guilty that he had injured the innocent soul. The squashed animal turned out to be none other than Peter Pettigrew, who, due to his injuries, couldn't hold his Animagus form any longer. Luckily for the rat, only a few bones were broken and they could be quickly mended with a few vials of Skele-Gro. He was bruised quite harshly, however, but the Order let the traitor suffer at least a bit, as they weren't yet sure what to do. Harry had wanted to kill the traitorous man in an instant, avenging Sirius's stint in Azkaban and the deaths of his parents. The world didn't need such scum as Pettigrew; Harry had repeated that over and over, circling the captive.

The Order members were quite agreeable on Harry's idea, but suddenly the traitor vowed to tell the secret of Voldemort's power. After his long blabbering stopped, they realised that they had acquired the key to minimize casualties on both sides…blood magic.

Pettigrew explained that he had seen the Dark Lord perform the needed rituals for branding his minions with the Dark Mark, along with how to summon certain Death Eaters to him. It appeared that the magic of Purebloods who were branded with the Dark Mark, mixed with that of their Master, essentially bonding the two. Hermione was given the task of researching these rituals in order to try and reverse the procedure, in essence, calling the Death Eaters to the Order and blocking Voldemort's summoning powers. All her friends were sure Hermione could solve this puzzle, as that was what she does best. After all, they had been progressing very well in the horcrux hunt, aided by Tonks, Remus, and Kingsley, and so Harry and Ron had encouraged her to start the research. The final confrontation was coming nearer with each horcrux destroyed and the results of this research would aide them tremendously.

First, she read all the books concerning magical bonds and summons. It had been frustrating to realise that the Hogwarts library's restricted section had nothing on it; so frustrating in fact, that she had been close to giving up on the idea of her research and the resulting minimization of the loss of life in the war.

Ron's sudden stroke of genius had really brought her work forward. He had the idea to question Kreacher and Dobby to find out if they knew of Dark Arts books hidden in the homes of the Purebloods.

After a lot of complaining, Kreacher had given in to Harry and revealed the secret passage in Grimmauld Place where the Black's Dark Magic Library was located. Dobby had been more than happy to give out the location of his old master's hidden books. So, thanks to the kind nature of the house elves (Kreacher had spent weeks banging his head against a wall to punish himself for the traitorous confession, but she didn't feel sorry for him; and Dobby had been delighted to receive a huge box of socks as a reward for his service) she had the books she needed for theory.

As for practical testing, she had vials of blood from Snape, who had donated the needed amount joyously, and Pettigrew, who was the exact opposite giving his 'donation' only after being petrified and gagged for good measure. The Auror Department promised to send her samples of blood from pureblood Death Eaters as soon as they could, so she had arrived at her current secluded country house in a very happy mood.

She had wished to have a living subject to test her findings on, and her silent prayers had been answered when she had found Malfoy Senior in the woods. It was quite unexpected, but…she sighed. Lucius was a perfect test subject; alive, Pureblooded, and one of the Death Eaters extraordinaire. Maybe if she'd slip a bit of Veritaserum he'd spill more of the Dark Lord's secrets?

However, she couldn't think of him as just a mere test subject. He was so…overwhelmingly masculine, she admitted to herself. Even just out of prison and absolutely un-groomed, he radiated such sexuality she had a hard time breathing.

She didn't know what it was – maybe the aristocratic paleness of his skin? Or the silky, silver-blonde hair? The deep grey eyes? She tried to downplay her sudden attraction. He had been, after all, bloody, unconscious and dirtier than any vagabond.

_ But once you healed and cleaned him; he was quite yummy, wasn't he? That smooth skin…you want to feel more of him, right? _A little voice nagged in her head. Merlin, it was true.

She had given in to her temptation and touched him. Yes, maybe it was not very intimate, but still she had seen his reaction to her subtle touch. He had been impressively aroused and had tried to hide that. Quite unsuccessfully, she mused.

She had been stunned when she had first seen his naked form…his manhood was very impressive even in its flaccid state. And she was very interested in what he could do with it when aroused. She would certainly find out.

For the first time since she had immersed herself in the research, her dreams were not science themed. Her dreams were extremely erotic, featuring a passionate lover. Not Ron, with whom she had friends-with-benefits relationship, but of Lucius' deadly seductive and actions unlike those of the subtle prisoner he had been today.

Standing up from the bed was quite awkward for Lucius. He was glad that she was gone; it would hurt his pride to let her see him wobbly on his legs.

He reached the door and stumbled into the bathroom. He didn't notice the threshold until he tripped, but soon he regained his balance and looked around. It did look so cheap…so Muggle, he remarked. He did miss the posh marble bathroom at the Manor. No gold plaited spigots and pool-sized tubs were available in these Muggle rooms. But, he reminded himself, any kind of bathroom was a godsend gift in his situation. Oh, how he had hated the monthly Scourgify which left him sore for days afterwards. The guards in Azkaban had far from cared about his well being.

But now, that was the past and the future was the Mud- no, the gorgeous woman who held him captive. His thoughts drifted to her curvaceous body and his cock sprang to attention immediately.

She was too pretty to be a Mudblood; it just couldn't be. Maybe there was something amiss with her papers? Most likely so, as she reminded him so much of Helena Rosier, his great-grandmother. Yet the girl had the untameable hair of the Yaxley line so…

These thoughts didn't help to mend his raging hard on. He stepped into the shower cubicle and after a bit of fiddling with the knobs managed to get an ice cold spray. It immediately lessened the hard on.

Not wanting to freeze himself to death, he turned the knobs again until a pleasant warm stream caressed his skin. He wished that it would've been the girls' hands, but he knew better than to daydream like a teenager.

There was a tray with different bottles in the corner. He noticed none of them were from the magical world, as he perused the cheap plastic containers and bold letterings.

When he had been Lord of the Manor, he had used custom made fine toiletries from France. But as a beggar can't be a chooser, he quickly found the bottle which stated the contents to be a shampoo. First he squeezed a little on his palm, sniffing it and inspecting it for harm. It just lathered up in the water. He carefully massaged it into his long hair. The shampoo felt unexpectedly pleasant, the scent was calming. He rinsed it off and felt his hair becoming cleaner. For good measure, he lathered up his hair again and, when he was pleased with the result, he finally rinsed all of the suds away. To his dismay, there was no conditioner to be found in the tray, but he'd live without it. Any shampoo was better than being subjected to Scourgify.

Another bright bottle caught his eye, 'Shower Gel', it read. The bright yellow substance emitting a strong citrus smell seemed a bit suspicious to him. It did, however, lather up in the water so Lucius decided that if the girl had wanted to harm him, she would've chosen a more direct approach. After all, it is not punishable to kill an Azkaban escapee. No, these were not the things his body was thinking about.

His mind filled with other images. Her on her knees in front of him, her hot mouth enveloping his cock. Oh yes, that's what he wished when he began to stroke himself. After a few strokes he came hard, it felt so good.

He was sure he'd bed the girl. He hadn't had any action in prison, and he was a man with a rampant libido. Now, as he was clean and becoming healthier, he could try to use his charm. It had never failed him when it came to getting the woman he wanted. Narcissa was the exception, but everyone else sooner or later couldn't resist him.

Life was going to be good for him, he thought as he stepped out of the shower stall and fetched a towel. The towel was clean, but it felt rough against his skin and he knew better than complain. A heavy cotton bathrobe hung on the door. It was slightly unappealing due to its greyish colouring, but it was the only thing he had to wear. He wanted to be covered up when he next saw Miss Granger.

Cursing under his breath, he slowly padded to his bed, the floor was uncomfortably cold and the plastic material felt slippery. One careless step and he'd fall. He wouldn't want that to happen. He'd avoid looking helpless in her eyes again.

After a while, he reached the bed and sat down, perusing the contents on the nightstand. A plastic pitcher with water and a plastic glass, obviously, for security reasons, just like the three potion vials, made of unbreakable glass.

Not that he was such an idiot to use glass shards to harm himself or attack her. He had seen her fight at the Ministry. She was a force to be reckoned with. And what would it bring him, anyway? A trip back to Azkaban? That's what he didn't want. He planned to seduce the girl and see how he could arrange his life without going back to the cold cell. He'd rather spend five years in this room as a Muggle than have the constant lurking of Dementors behind his back.

Another item on the night stand was a plain comb, again plastic. He could see a pattern here, which made him smirk. Then again, the girl had shown him more kindness than anyone else had in his lifetime. He hoped she didn't have an ulterior motive.

He combed his hair slowly, surprised that the Muggle shampoo concoction had really detangled his hair. It felt good to be a bit groomed again.

The contents of the vials were harmless – a pain reliever, a follow up to Skele-Gro, and a sleeping draught. He downed them and curled up in bed.

Cheap, Muggle-like life wasn't too bad. Maybe if he seduced the girl, he'd be able to bargain for other luxuries.

He drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face.


End file.
